


Biting the Bullet

by MattsyKun



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Implied Partnerships, M/M, Slow Burn, Werewolf AU I guess???, Wolf Battle 2k76, other tags will be added later - Freeform, werewolf!McCree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7332490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MattsyKun/pseuds/MattsyKun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every inch of him was screaming at him to run, to try and escape. He would not be able to, though; he was sure that the beasts were even faster than himself. With newfound determination, he resolved to fight the beasts if it came down to it. He would be leaving this tunnel alive, and returning back to base to warn his teammates of the dangers in the underground.</p><p> </p><p>After a fateful night in the subway tunnels of King's Row, Hanzo learns that the west has its own monsters. And that they're closer than he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Legend Long Gone

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to properly write this for ages. I'm a huge sucker for Werewolf AUs. 
> 
> So finally, here. Enjoy!

Hanzo was many things. A brilliant tactician. An ace marksman. Stoic. Cold. A brother. A teammate. A friend.

Hanzo was many things, but he was not a liar.

The others, they did not believe him when he recounted the tale of what had happened the night before. He had believed they would understand; after all, Hanzo was not one to make jokes. They brushed it off, chalking it up to hallucinations or exhaustion. 

Hanzo knew what he saw in the subway tunnels. His eyes were sharp; they did not lie to him. 

The morning air washed over him as he leaned against the balcony rail. He lightly gripped his arm, feeling the bandages underneath his sleeve. The others did not know of the fresh marks there, a reminder of what had happened. Mercy had not believed him either, even when she had been cleaning the wound. She described it as unusual, and simply told him that she would look at it again in a few days to check the healing progress.

Hanzo was not a liar. What he had seen was real. 

With a sigh, he made his way down to the kitchen. He could hear the coffee maker rumbling quietly. He quietly made his way into the kitchen, seeing McCree at the coffee maker, a mug in his hand. It was rare that anyone was awake before Hanzo, especially the cowboy. 

“Howdy, Hanzo.” McCree mumbled, flashing him a lopsided grin over his shoulder. He held out the mug to him, frowning at the archer’s disheveled appearance.

“I made ya tea, but maybe ya need some coffee instead. Didn’t sleep last night?”

Hanzo looked away. McCree was the only one who hadn’t heard his recollection of the night before, having been absent from their meeting. If he had been there, he probably would have laughed at him, and continue to poke fun at him for a few weeks. He carefully pulled the cup of tea from McCree’s hand, taking a small sip. It was only a matter of time until he found out; he figured he would tell him. McCree knew Hanzo was not a liar.

“I decided to go out last night. I was…attacked.” Hanzo mumbled. McCree turned to him, his eyes full of curiosity. 

“Fuck, Hanzo! By what?!”

Hanzo took a sip of his tea, “It is a long story. One you probably will not believe.”

McCree snorted, stifling a laugh, “I’ve seen some things, Hanzo. An’ nobody’s gonna be in here for a while. We’ve got time.”

Hanzo nodded, setting his mug down on the counter. “Very well. But promise me that you will not laugh.”

McCree let out a short bark of laughter, grinning crookedly at him, “Can’t make no promises.”

* * *

The moon had been full, its light reflecting on the cobblestone streets and alleyways of King’s Row. It wasn’t often that Hanzo was struck with a sudden bout of restlessness, rendering him unable to sleep. He had dressed in a very casual outfit: a pair of shorts, a shirt, and a sweatshirt. He couldn’t afford to stand out, especially in this city. Equipped with a hidden dagger, he left their safehouse, quietly making his way into the heart of the city.

He wandered almost aimlessly, observing the city. He could hear shouting from the pubs as civilians blissfully drank, enjoying each other’s company and merriment. Off in the distance, a dog barked. A cold breeze brushed over him and he shuddered slightly. For the situation the city was in and the tensions that ran through it, the night was unusually calm. 

He made his way to an entrance to the underground railways that ran beneath the city, intent on taking a shortcut to the outskirts of the city. He would not leave; he only wanted to explore, to go as far as he could until exhaustion would force him to return. 

The entrance was closed, but that did not stop Hanzo from jumping over the barrier and making his way down. He moved swiftly, a slight knot forming in his stomach. Something was putting him on edge, his instincts telling him that his plan was not a good one. 

It was nearly pitch black in the tunnels, with only faint orange emergency lights lining the rails. The hair on the back of Hanzo’s neck prickled as he ran alongside the rails, the sounds of his feet echoing throughout the tunnel. Someone was here in this tunnel, and they were following him.

He skidded to a halt, his hand on his blade as he turned around. No, there was something there before him, a pair of faintly glowing yellow eyes in the shadows.

He froze, the sounds of something clicking against the ground—boots, probably—growing closer as the pair of eyes was joined by another, and another. He shifted into a defensive stance, the blade held in front of him. Maybe they were Omnics, ones who had had enough of the humans forcing them back from the surface, ready to enact their revenge. Hanzo did not want to fight them, but if they attacked, he would have no choice.

The clicking drew closer as a body finally entered the glow of the emergency light. Hanzo’s eyes widened.

This was no Omnic.

At least, he hoped it wasn’t. It was a dog—no, this was no dog. It was more of a wolf-like beast, with shaggy black fur and golden eyes that rooted him to the spot. The beast was smaller than him on all fours, but its hulking mass meant that it would be able to easily knock him to the ground and subdue him. Hanzo remained frozen to the spot as the other two came into view, flanking the black beast. On the left was a slightly larger wolf, with pale grey fur and a cream underbelly, and green eyes. On the right, a brown wolf of similar size, with crooked teeth and a chunk of its left ear missing. All three of them stared at him, the black one—he assumed it was the alpha—licked its chops.

Hanzo suddenly felt small.

The black wolf swung its head to its partners, letting out a huffing noise. They both seemed to nod before sitting back, continuing to watch Hanzo as the archer took a tentative step backwards. The wolf’s eyes were near hypnotic, keeping him rooted to his spot as the wolf drew closer. He could see the beast’s fangs as it opened its mouth, letting out a low, gruff growl.

Every inch of him was screaming at him to run, to try and escape. He would not be able to, though; he was sure that the beasts were even faster than himself. With newfound determination, he resolved to fight the beasts if it came down to it. He would be leaving this tunnel alive, and returning back to base to warn his teammates of the dangers in the underground.

The wolf drew closer, and Hanzo could smell its rancid breath. Its muzzle was scarred, and there was something dripping from its fangs; he hoped it was not blood. It licked its muzzle before pressing its nose into Hanzo’s hair, sniffing. Hanzo did not tremble nor flinch, remaining stock still as the wolf-beast sniffed him over.

Seemingly satisfied with its examination, the beast pulled back, baring its fangs. It raised one of its paws at him, with claws as sharp as his blade. A snarl erupted from it as it swung at the archer.

Hanzo leapt back, but not before the beast’s claws slashed through his sweatshirt, leaving several gashes on his arm. He grunted, grabbing his wounded arm. The wolf was panting now, its nostrils flaring as it drank the scent of Hanzo’s blood. Hanzo grit his teeth; if he had his bow, there would not have been a contest. He had fought and won many battles, but none like this.

The other two wolves raised their heads, their howls filling the tunnel as the black wolf charged at him again. This time, Hanzo rolled away from it, his back slamming against the tunnel wall. He could feel his arm damp with blood, the wound beginning to sting. The wolf snarled, spinning around and lunging at him. This time, he was too slow, just a fraction too slow, and the beast pinned him under powerful paws. His blade flew from his hand, clattering on the ground a ways away.

Hanzo struggled to escape, trying his hardest to free himself from the grasp of the beast. He kicked his legs up, hoping to hit something, any part of the wolf he could, but the wolf paid no mind. Instead, it snarled in his face, drool dripping onto his cheek and forehead. It stared at him, yellow eyes boring into his own brown ones, freezing him to the spot. The beast demanded respect, and it was going to get it.

 

The wolf licked its chops again. It was anticipating this moment, but was seemingly holding itself back. It didn’t want to bite into him just yet. It instead sniffed his hair again, using its nose to turn Hanzo’s head to the side, revealing his neck. Hanzo shuddered as the wolf dragged its tongue against his neck, tasting him.

It wanted to savor this moment.

Hanzo grit his teeth, weakly struggling against the powerful hold of the wolf-beast. However, no matter how hard he tried, he could not free himself. He flinched as he felt the wolf’s fangs lightly scrape against his neck.

Hanzo closed his eyes. This wasn’t how he imagined he would die, pinned underneath a large beast and its companions.

He heard a loud bark, and he opened his eyes as the black wolf paused, raising its head. Its ears twitched, letting out a confused snort as it tilted its head to the side.

Then, suddenly, it let out a yelp as something crashed into it, sending it flying into the wall.

Hanzo leapt to his feet, staring at the new arrival. Now there were four wolves in the tunnel, and Hanzo was beginning to wonder if he was going to survive this ordeal. This wolf was smaller, with brownish fur and some sort of tattered red fabric around its neck. It stood in front of him, hackles and tail raised, its fangs bared at the black wolf, who was struggling to his feet.

Hanzo slowly backed up, crouching to pick up his dagger from the ground. The brown wolf snarled, snapping its teeth at the black wolf. The other two wolves had jumped to their feet, snarling and barking as well. 

The smaller brown wolf turned to look at Hanzo, its reddish gold eyes gazing into his own. It bared its teeth—almost as if it were grinning—before letting out a sharp bark at him.

It wanted him to run.

Hanzo watched as the wolf leapt at the black alpha, landing on the wolf’s back as its fangs closed around the shaggy black scruff around its neck. This wolf was different; it seemed to want to protect him. Hanzo turned, retracing his steps back through the tunnel as the barking and scuffling of the wolves faded into the distance. He gripped his arm, trying to stifle the blood dripping from it, as he made his way back to the surface.

He had to warn them. If their mission led them into the underground, they would most likely be killed.

* * *

“I came back, tried to explain what happened. They did not believe me,” Hanzo said, oddly quiet. He gripped his injured arm, turning away from McCree. 

“I do not know what they were. They were neither wolf nor man. Some sort of yokai, perhaps. All I know is that they are a danger to us, should we venture underground.”

McCree nodded, downing the rest of his coffee before tossing an arm around the archer, who stiffened. McCree grinned, patting him on the shoulder with reassurance.

“Tell ya what, Han. If ya see them again, lemme know. I’ll take care of em for ya.” There was a fire in his eyes, full of determination as he grinned. Hanzo smirked back at him, lightly smacking the cowboy’s hand away. 

“I am sure you are more than capable.”

McCree puffed out his chest a bit, letting out a short bark of laughter. Hanzo chuckled softly, picking up his cup of tea as Mccree slid away from him to prepare another pot of coffee for when Angela woke up.

He watched the cowboy, his mind replaying last night’s events over and over. He had wished it was a dream, but the wounds on his arm would be a constant reminder, at least until they healed. 

At least someone believed him.


	2. It's Not Unusual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange things are beginning to happen to Hanzo. Really strange things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gahhh forgive meeeee

Over the next several nights, Hanzo had a series of dreams, or rather, nightmares. Nightmares about those fangs and claws, about the glowing eyes and drooling maws.

About the brown wolf who had allowed him to escape, the tattered red fabric around its neck flapping in the gentle night breeze.

With the agents only running small reconnaissance missions, Hanzo was left with a lot of time to think. He spent most of his time in his quarters, thinking and researching, trying to find answers to the many questions he had. There had been no records of dog—or wolf—attacks in King’s Row in the past several years, and only legends and rumors of wolves in England in general. Stories and articles of beasts that were neither wolf nor man, or rather, both wolf and man, reminiscent of the _kitsune_ and other shapeshifting creatures from his homeland.

If he had not been a Shimada, in control of dragons, he would have found the whole situation ridiculous.

As the sun rose after his third day of research, Hanzo was left with even more questions than answers. His mind kept going back to the brown wolf, with its lopsided grin. Something about it seemed familiar, something that the archer couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

His mind was in turmoil the entire day, occupied on the thought of the wolf instead of their debriefing meeting for their mission at the end of the week, or his check-up with Mercy over his arm, or his attempt to meditate under the warmth of the sun. It was beginning to turn into an obsession, which was so unusual for the elder Shimada. Normally, he was focused on the mission, whether it be actively working or preparations before or after. How unusual it was for him to be so invested in this whole situation, chasing myths and legends based on an experience from a single night.

King’s Row was an unusual place.

After a vigorous training session, Hanzo made his way back to his room. Most of the other agents were off doing their own thing, either preparing, resting, or having fun out on the town while they still could. He himself intended on doing more research, possibly asking Lena (provided she was still around the safehouse) if she knew anything about werewolves. He shrugged the thought away; she would probably laugh him out of the room.

As he rounded the corner to his room, he nearly bumped straight into McCree. He hadn’t seen the cowboy over the past several days. It was particularly unusual; if he wasn’t practicing or lazing around the base, he was annoying Hanzo, pestering him about either strange or meaningless things. He had grown accustomed to the cowboy’s presence, even grown to tolerate it. To not see him for several days made him wonder how deep he had fallen into his research.

The cowboy wasn’t wearing his usual attire, instead opting for khakis, a button-down shirt, and a green serape in a similar pattern to his normal red one. Hanzo raised an eyebrow; much like his hat, the serape was a staple of his outfits. He was practically never seen without it. Hanzo didn’t even know that McCree had serapes in alternate colors; It was an unusual look for the man. He shook his head slightly, wondering why he cared so much. What McCree wore was none of his business. And yet, it was another mystery that bothered him ever so slightly.

McCree grinned, tipping his hat back out of his eyes. “Howdy, Hanzo!”

“Where is your serape?” Hanzo said, looking over the cowboy. McCree rubbed the back of his head, picking at a corner of the green serape that decorated his shoulders.

“Whaddya talkin’ about, Hanzo? I’m wearin’ one right here!”

Hanzo frowned, “I am talking about the red one. The one that I have not seen you without since the day I joined.”

McCree’s eyes shifted away as he grinned. “Ah, I got into a lil’ fight with some fellas few nights ago. Tore the damn thing nearly to pieces. Gotta fix it up, but until then I got this one.” He leaned over the archer. Hanzo took a step back; he was close, too close. What had gotten into him? The cowboy had been more than happy to give him space in the past, respecting his personal boundaries, even when they went on assignments together, but now...

The cowboy’s eyes roved over him, seemingly studying every aspect of him, scrutinizing him. Hanzo, too, could inspect him. Had his teeth always been that sharp? Had his eyes always had that amber gleam to them? Had he always smelt of cedar? It was practically undiscernible underneath the stench of smoke and whiskey. It wasn’t a bad scent, but it seemed almost normal to him.

“Do ya prefer me in red, darlin’?” McCree growled, low and mischievous. Hanzo looked away, pressing his hands to McCree’s chest. His fingers dug into the sage green serape, his mind torn between remaining where he was, or pushing him away.

“That is not the point.”

“I didn’t hear a no…” McCree growled. He gently rested a hand on Hanzo’s bare shoulder, pressing into the archer. Hanzo could feel his heart pounding in his chest, feel McCree’s warmth against him. He could feel an uncomfortable sensation forming in his chest, his face dusted lightly with pink. He wanted to escape, to push the other man away and run, but something kept him there, tethering him to the man, as if it was fate that he was at this particular spot at this particular time.

It was as if a strange curse had fallen over him. Everything was strange, so very strange, and he had been thrust into the middle of it all. 

He felt McCree pull away from him, and a part of him immediately began to miss the cowboy’s warmth. He looked up at him, trying to mask his disappointment and confusion. This man, this foolish, strange man, made him feel something unusual, a strange warmth in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

McCree grinned at him, that lazy, lopsided grin that showed off his sharp canines, as he extended his hand to him.

“Say, I reckon you’re pretty hungry. There’s a pretty great pub down the road, serves some great food. Wanna go?” McCree said, raising an eyebrow. Hanzo frowned, crossing his arms.

King’s Row was an unusual place.

* * *

The night found them leaving one of King’s Row’s local pubs. The city was alive with a sort of cautious excitement; it was not quite on edge, but not quite relaxed, either. The civilians were certainly having a good time, drinking and enjoying each other as they always did. They themselves had dressed to blend into the night crowd, moving around without blowing their cover.

Hanzo swayed slightly, leaning against McCree as they left the bar. It had been a mistake to accept a drinking challenge from the cowboy. While he wasn’t a lightweight, McCree had drank him under the table, slamming back drinks like they were water. It was almost inhuman how McCree was still standing while Hanzo was slumped against the cowboy, slurring his words and stumbling along the sidewalk.

McCree helped him along with a patient smile, knowing full well that the archer would go back to being his usual, serious self in the morning. But for now, they would enjoy each other’s company as they made their way back to the safehouse. 

They passed by several other pubs on the way, most with several of its patrons outside smoking or trying to hail a cab to return home. The duo stopped on a street corner, waiting for the traffic light to turn so they could safely cross without trouble.

They weren’t alone on the corner; there was three men, dressed in hoodies and jeans, smoking and chuckling. One of them elbowed the other man hard, pointing at Hanzo with a grin on his face. He swaggered over to them, resting his hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, startling the archer.

“Ain’t you a pretty little thing?” he crooned. Hanzo let out a sigh, brushing the man’s hand away from him. He frowned; he should not have let this man sneak up on him, even while drunk.

“I assure you, I am not your type.”

The man shrugged, smirking at the two, “Aw, don’t be like that, babe! How about you ditch that dog and get with a real wolf?”

Hanzo frowned. It was a curious choice of words, sure, but otherwise this man was simply being a nuisance. It was not the first time he had been mistaken for a woman, and secretly he prayed it would be the last. He narrowed his eyes, determined to put this man in his place.

“Do not test me.”

The man tossed back his head, letting out a sharp, barking laughter. Behind him, his friends chuckled, obviously amused by their friend’s advances. Hanzo let out a sharp hiss; he had let his guard down.

“You don’t know how things work around here, do ya? Guess little ol’ me’s gonna have to do.”

“Stop.”

Hanzo froze, his head whipping around as he stared at McCree. There was a wild look in the cowboy’s eyes as he glared at the man, his teeth bared. The man raised an eyebrow, the smile fading from his face, replaced with a look of contempt, his eyes narrowed and his lip pulled back in disgust. He scoffed quietly, turning to his friends and mouthing something to them. Hanzo could see briefly that the man was missing a chunk of his ear, and mildly wondered if that made him hard of hearing.

“Y’all ain’t from around here, are ya?” McCree growled. The man chuckled, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets as he turned back to the duo. He raised an eyebrow, looking the two over. Even though they were dressed in civilian attire to blend in, they did look a bit out of place in this city.

“What’s it to ya? Neither are you, from the looks of it. Just a stray dog that happened to wander in here, yeah? Trying to run with our crew, huh? Or maybe…” The man leaned over slightly, winking at Hanzo as he did so, “You’re tryin’ to pick a fight with us and steal our prey?”

McCree took a few steps forward, practically snarling as his hands balled into fists.

“I’m more than enough to take y’on, partner.”

Hanzo looked between the two men, one bristling with rage, the other oozing a disgusting combination of cockiness and contempt. He felt that at any moment, they could begin tearing at each other, and he was almost sure that McCree would win. He hoped that McCree had the sense to not start a brawl, but he knew that the cowboy would surely finish it, should one start.

The tension was broken by a loud burst of upbeat music from the man’s pocket. He frowned, digging a cellphone out of his pocket and answering it. Hanzo gently tugged on McCree’s shirt, breaking whatever trance the cowboy was in. They had to leave, and fast, before they were dragged into a fight.

The man groaned, muttering something before tossing his phone to one of the other men. He grinned at McCree and Hanzo, pointing at McCree.

“You got off lucky this time! Next time, ya won’t be so lucky. Let’s clear out, boys. Boss wants us,” he said, turning his back on them. McCree started to go after them, but another sharp tug on his shirt convinced McCree to grab Hanzo’s hand, nearly dragging the archer across the street.

“Jesse—“ Hanzo started to say, but he was stopped as McCree wrapped an arm around him, his nails digging slightly into his shoulder. He could practically feel McCree’s heart racing, his harsh breathing as he attempted to calm himself down. It was so strange; the cowboy normally would never have fallen for taunts like that. 

The walk back to the safehouse was silent between them, once again leaving Hanzo with more questions than answers.

King’s Row was certainly an unusual place.


End file.
